Welcome to Night Vale: Poor Unfortunate Radio Host
by ko-writes
Summary: Cecil is trapped. He's enslaved to the NVCR and has given up. What happens when he meets that perfect scientist and saves his life? Can Carlos do the same? TW: Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Depression, Disability, Captivity.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter Text

Cecil sighed, relaxing in his swivel chair once again. Was he going to be stuck here _forever_? It wasn't terrible, he loved being the voice of Night Vale! But he always ran along the same lines, like one of those trains he saw once in Europe; always on the set tracks. It was wake up, get ready, go to work, come home when work was over, go to sleep - pretend to sleep - and repeat. Well, there was the mandatory slice at Big Rico's, but he decided it didn't count.

Why was _he_ the one captured? He was smart, he was respected even though no one knew what he looked like; so why?

Cecil sighed and glaced uninterestedly at his purple tattoos, not glowing as much as they used to. Everything was dull, even his startlingly blond hair; and the spark in his violet eyes had been erased.

He shut all three of his eyes and allowed himself to slump, hard, onto the desk on his elbows.

The new intern, Dana, poked her head around the doorframe, "Are you alright Cecil?"

Cecil's head shot up. "Yes, fine," he dismissed, his voice trying so despirately to sound as fluid and bright as it used to be; a facade that was crumbling. It had been crumbling since he found out he was trapped here now. Set on tracks.

"We still have a while before the weather finishes, it's a long one today; why don't you go pet Khoshekh?" Dana offered, knowing that Cecil put more affection onto that cat than any person in Night Vale and loved to just talk to him.

"Yeah, I think I will," Cecil offered a weak smile and got up out of his chair. He walked out of his studio as straight and tall as he could, but it wasn't much.

Dana smiled sadly after him. 'There goes Atlas...' she thought to herself. Cecil did often look like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

* * *

Cecil walked up to his beloved cat and stroked a finger under the cat's soft chin, being careful of the poison sacks. "Oh, Khoshekh; I don't think I can keep doing this..."

Khoshekh nuzzled up to The Scar on his arm. "Clever boy," Cecil cooed, "But you mustn't tell anyone; they already think I'm a freak."

Khoshekh's eyes seemed to show some understanding as the cat closed them, tilting his head down in almost a sagely nod.

Cecil stared at his bracletes - his shacles - and groaned. He felt the distant urge to smash something, but he didn't want to scare his lovely Khoshekh.

"Khoshekh... I don't know how to explain it, but I think I'm dying... really soon. It's not because I don't love you; I just... can't anymore..." There are tears in his eyes as Khoshekh tried to bite through one of the bracletes, "Nice try, kitty; but it doesn't work."

Khoshekh gave a sad meow in reply.

The door cracked open. "Cecil, I think you should head back now," Dana advised from outside.

"Sure, I'll be right there!" he called back


	2. Chapter 2

Cecil was ecstatic! He was allowed off the tracks!

Station management was going to let him report from the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex!

Also, he was reporting on the mysterious city under lane five, which was an added bonus as it was quite the scoop.

Cecil had already decided to stay as anonymous as possible. It was purely out of self-preservation, if anyone saw his third eye... Well, there would be consequences. Painful consequences.

He sat now in one of the plastic chairs that were scattered around, with a scarf around his third eye.

He was psyching himself up to go near that big, gaping hole in the floor and gaze at that, possibly dangerous, city when he met the gaze of a beautiful man.

His skin was dark, his hair black and his eyes an emerald green. His teeth were like a military cemetery and he was dressed in a lab coat. He smiled at Cecil!

The radio host smiled back, a little unsure, and finished writing his introduction. He put the pad and not-pen in his pocket and took a few cautious steps towards the hole, only to have a large hand land on his shoulder.

"Uh, I don't think you should do that..." The owner of the hand suggested, "It could be dangerous."

"Look buddy," Cecil began, turning to face this guy, "I need to inspect it -" don't say you're with the station, you embarrassment "- And I don't need some random -"  
The words died in his throat. The beautiful scientist was the owner of the hand.

"Well, sir; I'm a scientist and I'm eighty nine point two percent sure it's dangerous. If you wait a moment, I was going to inspect it myself..." The scientist advised and all Cecil could do for a moment was nod.

Cecil shook his head and took a breath, "Alright," then, almost as an after thought added, "What's your name?"

"Carlos," the perfect scientist answered, "What about -?"

"Carlos, come on!" A woman in another lab coat called.

"Sorry, I better go," Carlos chuckled, and if Cecil didn't know any better he'd say nervously, "Science calls."

And then he was gone.

Ugh, great way to spend your time off the tracks, Palmer.

He sat back down, waiting for Carlos' news, but heard the handsome man's side of the conversation.

"This is amazing!"

"Pass me the ropes."

"This is going to be awesome!"

"What do you mean 'keep my voice down'?"

Cecil giggled. It was so cute when scientists got all excited about their work! Passion in one's career is also rather nice.

He watched Carlos secure the rope and start to climb into the hole, only to stop when just the top of his beautiful hair was visible.

Cecil frowned, getting out of his seat and approaching the hole. The scientist was talking.

"Look, it's not a huge city thousands of feet below, but a tiny city! I don't think we need to - Ah!"

At Carlos' yelp, Cecil surged forward. The perfect man was slumped against the entrance of the hole... So much blood...

Cecil looped his long arms around Carlos and dragged him out. The radio host almost straddled him, but restrained himself to settle for kneeling by his shoulder.

"Get Teddy!" He ordered, "Now!"

The woman, wide-eyed did as she was asked.

Cecil knew he had to stop the bleeding, and that what happened to himself didn't matter.

He took off his own shirt, tattoos and markings swirling in agitation, and held it against the puncture wound in Carlos' chest.

There was a large gash in the scientist's arm, too close to his wrist. Cecil took off his headscarf, third eye squinting in the light, and used it as a tourniquet. People were staring.

"Come on Carlos, don't give up!" He almost whispered, desperately. He didn't want this man to die.

The woman returned with Teddy and the manager/doctor set to work.

Cecil fell away from Carlos, landing hard on his butt, but he didn't care.

"He's a freak!" Someone in the crowd cried.

"He's a demon!" Another accused.

"Kill the monster!" Someone else cried.

Cecil ran.


	3. Chapter 3

"I have to find him!" Carlos exclaimed, "He saved my life!"

His assistant, Kelly, spoke up. "But... He was a monster."

Carlos turned on her, eyes narrowed, "He wasn't a monster! What sort of monster saves someone's life? And he was... Beautiful..."

The other scientists all shared a look, wondering if they were all talking about the same man.

"Carlos, maybe you should lie down," Alfred, one of Carlos' closest friends on the team, suggested at Carlos' near frantic pacing.

"Not until I find him," Carlos waved away, "He didn't even tell me his name..."

"It's a lost cause," Phillip huffed, "He's probably ran away! He was a freak anyway, you aren't losing much."

"Shut up!" Carlos snapped, "he was beautiful. Those lilac eyes -"

"All three of them," Phillip snorted, "It's not even like you know the guy!"

"I'm going to find him, I'll make an announcement to the whole city; hell, I'll turn it upside-down if I have to!" Carlos cried, puffing out his chest and squaring his shoulders.

"How romantic," Annie cooed, latching onto Ben's arm and nuzzling into their shoulder.

"I suppose..." They pondered.

"You've all gone insane," Phillip stated, "I'm, like, ninety nine percent sure Carlos is going to start singing 'Agony' any second now." Then skulked away to continue his research.

* * *

Cecil had managed to drag himself into the bathroom, his legs too mangled to use.

It didn't hurt, creatures like him didn't feel pain, but he couldn't stand or walk.

He curled up in a ball and sobbed from the sheer frustration of it all; he saved Carlos's life, and this was his reward?

Khoshekh whined and tried to stretch down to him, but his hover spot was too high.

"Good Kitty," Cecil breathed, "You're a good boy, Khoshekh."

The door squeaked open, "It's ok, Khoshekh; I just stopped in to use the -Cecil!"

Steve Carlsberg, the only one to ever visit him and the one guy Cecil could not stand. Perfect.

Steve was at his side in seconds, "Cecil, buddy; can you stand?"

Cecil shook his head.

There was an almighty growl, the men's room door burst off it's hinges, and the long, semi-corporeal tentacles of station management shot through.

The Elderich horror ripped Khoshekh out of his place and the cat screeched, the fabric of the universe making a noise akin to Velcro being torn apart.

"Get off him!" Cecil demanded, "Get off my cat!"

He pushed himself forward, latching onto Khoshekh and lashing out with his fists.

He managed to snatch the cat away from Station Management.

"Don't touch him!" Cecil growled, his form relinquishing it's semi-human form to give way to The Voice, channelling the void through his now pure white eyes.

Station Management pulled back with a squeal.

Steve, ignoring the headache just being near the void always gave him, scooped Cecil up in his arms, the radio host still gripping Khoshekh, and ran to Cecil's booth; locking the door behind them.

He got the first aid kit off the wall and helped Cecil to strip to his boxer shorts so he could patch up his legs.

Walking again was looking bleak, but at least he wasn't in pain. Maybe he'd leave sooner than he planned; but life, existence, was so fleeting and boring, who really cared?

"I think you'll need a wheel -"

"No," Cecil interrupted, "I'll just stay in the chair I do my broadcasts in, it'll be fine."

"You can't be serious?" Steve asked incredulously.

"It's not like I go anywhere," Cecil huffed, "I'm trapped Steve; today was my first day out in years! And then I wreck it by saving this... Perfect scientist. I-I want to be free!"

"Well, if you want, I know this guy in Desert Bluffs; he helps folks get what they want. Maybe I could call him for you?" Steve offered.

"Isn't that the witch everyone said was evil?" Cecil inquired, brow furrowed.

"He's changed, Cecil. He can help you be free!" Steve enthused.

Cecil pondered it for a minute, then nodded.

"Great! I'll go call Kevin!" Steve smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

Cecil was sat in his broadcast chair, Khoshekh in his lap, pulling himself around the studio. There was a new brand on his chest, just above his heart, reading 'property of NVCR'.

There was the howl of a spider-wolf, and a knock at the door.

"Who is it?" Cecil called anxiously.

"The man who's going to make your dreams come true!" Chirped the person at the door, "I'm Kevin!"

Ah, the guy Steve called.

Cecil rolled himself to the door and flung it wide. Oh dear…

The man at the door, Kevin, was like him! Three eyes, swirling markings; but rather than an almost-white blonde, his hair was as black as pitch, his clothes covered in blood, and his smile was cut deep into his cheeks. "Oh my…" Kevin chuckled, "Isn't this just jazzy!"

"H-hello, Mr… Kevin," Cecil greeted.

"Look at you," The bloody man cooed, pushing into the building and too furry… things following after, "I heard you wanted me to work my magic! I don't get many calls outside of Desert Bluffs!"

Cecil laughed nervously, "Uh, yeah, about that –"

"Oh, don't be nervous," Kevin assured, "You don't have anything to worry about! I even know how to fix your little problem! The only way to get what you want is to become a human yourself.

"Can you do that?" Cecil asked.

"My dear, sweet double. That's what I do. It's what I live for. To help unfortunate creatures like yourself. Poor souls with no one else to turn to," Kevin exclaimed, "I admit that in the past I've been a nasty; they weren't kidding when they called me, well, a witch. But you'll find that nowadays, I've mended all my ways. Repented, seen the light, and made a switch to Strex. And I fortunately know a little magic, it's a talent that I always have possessed; and here lately, please don't laugh, I use it on behalf of the miserable, lonely, and depressed…"

"Pathetic," Kevin mumbled to himself, before brightening, "Poor unfortunate souls; in pain, in need."

Kevin conjured a vision of two men, one a little on the large side and the other scrawny, "This one longing to be thinner, that one wants to get the girl; and do I help them? Yes, indeed."

Kevin snapped his fingers and the scrawny man became buff and muscular, while the other was a slim… woman. They embraced each other as Kevin sang on. "Those poor unfortunate souls – so sad, so true. They come flocking to my cauldron – crying, 'Spells, Kevin, please!' – And I help them! Yes I do."

Kevin sobered, "Now it's happened once or twice… Someone couldn't pay the price and I'm afraid I had to rake them across the coals…" He made his hand into a fist and the two people in the vision withered into limp plants. "Yes I've had the odd complaint, but on the whole I've been a saint to those poor unfortunate souls!"

"Have we got a deal?" Kevin asked, pulling an arm around Cecil's shoulders.

"If I become human, I'll never be able to broadcast again..." Cecil pondered.

"But you'll have your man," Kevin winked, "Life's full of tough choices, isn't it? Oh, and there is one more thing. We haven't discussed the subject of payment."

"But I don't have –"

"I'm not asking much," Kevin interrupted, "Just a token really, a trifle! What I want from you is… your voice."

Cecil gasped, "But without my voice, how can I –"

"You'll have your looks," Kevin enthused, "Your pretty face! And don't underestimate the importance of body language, ha! The men up there don't like a lot of blabber; they think a boy who gossips is a bore! Yes on land it's much preferred for ladies not to say a word, and after all, dear, what is idle prattle for? Come on, they're not all that impressed with conversation! True gentlemen avoid it when they can. But they dote and swoon and fawn on a guy who's withdrawn. It's he who holds his tongue who gets a man!"

"Come on you poor unfortunate soul! Go ahead! Make your choice!" Kevin demanded, "I'm a very busy man and I haven't got all day! It won't cost much; just your voice! You poor unfortunate soul! It's sad but true."

Kevin fabricated a scroll with Cecil's contract, and a pen, both floating in mid-air. "If you want to cross the bridge, my sweet; you've got the pay the toll. Take a gulp and take a breath and go ahead and sign the scroll!"

"Sandy, Cactus, now I've got him, boys," Kevin muttered aside to his pets, "The boss is on a roll! This poor unfortunate soul!"

Cecil took the pen and scribbled his signature on the line. "There," he nodded curtly.

Kevin smiled even wider, "Oh how lovely! Now… Your voice." Kevin opened Cecil's mouth gently.

"Is this going to hurt?" Cecil mumbled, his mouth full with Kevin's fingers.

"My dear double," Kevin smiled, "I'll make sure of it."

The fingers elongated, turning into sharp talons and stretching down, and down, and down into his throat; tearing his voice from him in a gruesome display of gore and blood.

His voice was shining in Kevin's hands.

"How pretty," Kevin cooed, slipping it into a glass trap at the end of a delicate silver chain, "And now, your freedom."

A small sandstorm engulfed Cecil; the radio host croaking and coughing, trying to call out. Blood was running down the side of his mouth, his nose, his eyes, his forehead and his ears. It… It _hurt_.

It all went black.

The sand died down, and Kevin gazed at his double. "Very pretty," he chuckled, scooping Cecil up in his arms, "I should find a bow! You'd look so nice, all tied up in ribbons for your dear scientist. Oh well, you'll have to do as you are! Don't want to keep _true love_ waiting…"


End file.
